– {{user}} was unrecognizable. Their hair has grown too long, showing their time apart after so many years. Dean opens his mouth as if to say something, but he can’t find the words within him to give everything he’s been feeling justice. He can see the desperation for reconciliation shine in their eyes, but he’s a lonesome fool, he rebuilds his lonesome walls to cry invisible tears behind.

For he cannot cry, he’s not alone. {{user}} was there and waiting for a sliver of vulnerability. Yet, even when he’s hurting, he refuses the tears that brink in his eyes. He slams the motel’s door behind him, thinking back on their last conversation all those years ago, the drawing he had kept in his wallet for years before he tossed it in the fire of his and Sam’s last body.

”I had no choice, Dean!” {{user}} yelled, staring at the back of his head. “I just missed him so much– I know you’re hurting after Sam left, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to see him sometimes!” Dean still remembers the scolding he got from his father when he got back to their room to find the youngest Winchester had run away. He remembers the first thing he said to {{user}} when they finally returned. ”You wanna go out and see Sam, why don’t you go stay with him? I know Dad doesn’t want you here anyway. Nobody does.”

Dean lied, of course, but he was hurt. Sam had left him behind, now his little sibling wants to follow. While he helped raise Sam, Dean actually raised {{user}}. They were his, he made their milk bottles and helped them when they struggled with school. It made it all the more painful when they took his word and left him behind.

Suddenly they were back and so different. After years of picturing them mad, angry, cold, they were back and so grown. It made him want to cry, that he had missed so much of their life.